1.30.2012

all in the middle of the road.

When I look back on the last day I spent in New York, I stare straight down at all the photos my friend Neha helped snap of me, and realise I was standing straight in the middle of the road/pavement/space between columns in several of them - my positions in the photographs reflect exactly how I felt there.

I was in the middle of everything. Manhattan does that to you. Make you feel like you're smack dab in the centre of the crazy bustling noise, the commuters, the media, the classy ladies having brunch or lunch, the hipsters lolling about the edges...

It has a paradoxical impact on the heart - I felt smaller with skyscrapers surrounding me again (London does not have an excess of these in Central) and businesspeople in suits rushed by with the perfunctory take-away coffee cup. But as I looked down on to Times Square from my hotel room window, and later in the suite high, high above the ground, I felt like I had reached a point where I could believe I have the potential to be bigger than myself.

Sometimes life brings us to places where we feel that inconceivable string of connection tense invisibly, tied to our minds and hearts. I don't think it was the hype, but the bustle and truth of Manhattan got to me, and I can sappily admit that I think it's going to see me again.